Rosalie the Mechanic?
by saranicole
Summary: I always thought of Rosalie as someone who wouldn’t want to get dirt under her fingernails, so what would prompt her to want to work on a car? This is my story of how Rosalie became a mechanic. Rated T for language.
1. Rosalie's POV

**A/N – **I've been thinking about Rosalie a lot lately—trying to figure out how the beautiful blonde ever discovered a knack for all things mechanical, especially cars. When she was a teenaged human, in the late 20's and early 30's, girls didn't learn many mechanical skills. That means that Rosalie would have already been a vampire when she learned to love cars. So I was trying to figure out what would have had to happen in order for Rosalie to risk dirtying her fingernails and getting grease on her clothes and hands. This is what I came up with.

This is a one-shot, though I wrote a companion chapter from a different point of view. I'll post it as Chapter 2.

Disclaimer – I don't own any of Stephenie Meyer's characters, nor do I own any of their pretty old-time cars. :( I especially don't own Rosalie… nor would I want to. Although I wouldn't mind having her mechanical brilliance!

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**1947**

**Rosalie's POV**

_What was I THINKING, marrying EMMETT MCCARTY?! He is so… ARRRGGGGHHH!!!_ I was shaking with fury. _Unfaithful bastard!_

_I have to get out of here. I don't want to be on the same _continent_ as him right now, let alone in the same godforsaken house!_

And so, as I usually did when I was upset, I grabbed my keys and my purse and headed out the door. I jumped into my beautiful red convertible, slammed the gearshift into the reverse position, and sped away from the house. If he wanted me, he was going to have to come after me.

It was a clear night, so I hit the button to let the top down. The automatic top was a new feature on this model. And it was ingenious. I had only had the car for a year—a gift from Emmett, actually, after the war ended and metals became more readily available. And I loved it.

Ever since I'd learned to drive—back in '37—I couldn't get enough of the open road. I had no idea what I had been missing when I was human. The freedom of driving was exhilarating, although the condition of the roads, poor as they were, was a drawback. I had heard that the United States government had a plan in progress to build large roads that would connect the States together. I couldn't wait. Imagine that—being able to drive from the East Coast to the West Coast all on a single road. It was nearly incomprehensible to me.

_At least more roads are being paved now than when I was alive. _I realized what I was thinking and laughed mentally._ Who would have thought that the idea of concrete and asphalt could make me so happy?_

I was much less angry when I got away from the little town roads and onto the larger paved road that stretched from here to the city located about 50 miles away. It was the middle of the night. All the humans had been home for at least 3 hours by now, so mine was the only vehicle on the road. I pushed the gas pedal to the floor, and before I knew it, I was going 65 miles per hour. With my hair whipping behind me in the wind, it felt incredible.

Not incredible enough for me to forgive Emmett though. I couldn't believe the way he had looked at that girl. He had _wanted_ her.

He was my _husband_! He shouldn't want anyone but _me_! I was beautiful! I had never seen another being that could rival me in looks—and he _still_ lusted after other women? Was he simply insatiable then?

_Could he see me—_be_ with me—and still find me wanting? _

The thought made me want to cry, though I could not. I hated that he could make me feel this way—that he could reduce me to this state.

But it would not be the first time a man had rejected me. Even after my revenge—oh, how sweet it had been!—I couldn't help but remember. He could have been with me—could have had me for the rest of his life—but he… they… I shook my head, trying not to remember how it felt to lay there, waiting… praying to die.

_Emmett_. I was mad at _Emmett_. For fawning over than little harpy of a girl. She wasn't even that pretty by _human_ standards.

I probably would have driven forever, fumed forever. Or at least to the city limits and back a couple of times, but suddenly, the car started handling strangely and making a fast, irregular sound.

Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump…

_Oh, no. THAT can't be good._

I pulled off the road and stopped the car. I had no idea what was wrong, but I could at least check to make sure nothing was smoking or leaking or clearly broken. I walked around the car, slowly, looking for anything obvious. When I reached the passenger-side rear tire, I saw that it was flat.

"No! No, no, no! This completely RUINS my getaway!" I exclaimed aloud, to myself and whatever gods might hear me. "I can't go home because I've been defeated by a piece of _rubber_! This is so unfair!"

And suddenly, I was genuinely mad again. Mad enough that I kicked the tire.

I realized as soon as my foot hit the rubber that it was a bad idea. The rear end of the vehicle shifted about a foot back toward the road, but the real indicator of a problem was the sound of metal bending.

_Uh oh… But at least it didn't snap… right?_

I bent down to see if I could locate where the sound had come from. I could see the piece of metal that held the wheel on was not straight—that the rear wheel and front wheel were no longer aligned with each other.

_I just made it a lot worse, didn't I?_

I knew I couldn't fix it, and that taking any more of my anger out on my convertible was going to result in me having to buy a new one. But I loved this thing. I didn't want a new one. I wanted _this _one, with its sparkling red paint, shiny chrome bumpers, sleek detail lines, and pristine white top.

_Damn it!_

I had to go home. And Emmett would hear that my convertible wasn't with me. I wasn't ready to go back yet. My pride was still black and blue with bruises. I wasn't ready to forgive him.

I took off running anyway, dwelling on how much I hated everything. I hated rubber. I hated tires. I hated tire companies. I hated that stupid, ugly girl in town. But most of all, I hated Emmett. I hated how he had looked at her. I hated how he made me feel.

But along with my anger, I thought of a solution. I could get Edward to show me how to _fix_ the tire, and then I could just keep on driving! And then, if it ever happened again—God forbid—I would know what to do.

Yes! It was perfect!

_Don't think about Emmett. Just talk to Edward. Don't think about Emmett. Just talk to Edward._

I was still repeating this mantra when I barged into the house and saw Emmett sitting on the couch, slumped over pitifully, resting his elbows on his knees, his forehead in his hands.

_How _dare_ he make himself into the victim here! UGH!_

As soon as the door slammed behind me, he was there, in front of me.

"Rosalie! I am _so_ sorr—" he started.

_No way. You're not getting off that easy._

"DON'T. TALK TO ME," I said, glaring at him, and ran up the stairs to Edward's room.

---

I opened his door without knocking.

"Did you want to dance?" Edward asked, before I could think up exactly how to phrase my request.

_What the hell…?_ "_What?!_"

"You burst in so excitedly—I thought you might be yearning to dance," he replied without looking up, but motioning to the record player with his hand. I heard the music now. Swing.

_Yeah, because that is _so_ what I'm in the mood for, _I thought, sarcastically. I shook my head though, not allowing him to goad me any further. _No. I need you to show me how to change a flat tire._

Edward looked up with this stupid surprised look on his face. He lifted his eyebrow at that thought. I rolled my eyes at him.

"_Why?_"he asked, puzzled.

I didn't want to explain—I didn't want Emmett to hear. So I showed Edward. My car on the side of the road. The flat tire. Getting frustrated and taking it on my poor vehicle.

"You shouldn't have _kicked_ it," Edward said, _trying_ to annoy me, I think.

"I realize that _now_," I replied, hearing the creaking noise again in my mind, and seeing how bent that metal bar had been.

"You made it about twenty times worse, you know."

"Yeah, I _do_ know, thank you very much. Are you going to help me?" _Or am I going to have to pick the damned thing up and _run_ it back home?_

He snorted at the thought. "Fine. Let's go."

---

It took us about 10 minutes to run back to the car. I guess I hadn't actually gone that far. But we _were_ running in a straight line toward it. And roads never took the most _direct_ routes.

When we finally arrived, Edward bent down to look at the bent metal rod.

"It's called the axle. It should be _straight_."

"I figured that much out on my own. How do you fix it?"

"You get a new axle—either from an old model or directly from Ford—then lift the car up, take this part of the car apart, replace the axle, then put the car back together."

"That sounds… complicated."

"It is. We can worry about all that later. But we should be able to make it drivable for now," he said, scooting himself underneath the car and bending the axle slowly back into place with his hands. "I guess vampire strength actually comes in handy once in a while," he joked.

"What about the tire?" I asked.

"We'll have to change it. It looks like you ran over a nail," he said, producing a nail from the rubber and giving it to me.

_An entire automobile rendered useless by a tiny piece of metal._

He shrugged and added, "The spare tire is in the trunk."

I unlocked and opened the trunk. Edward took the extra tire out, along with a metal contraption.

"A jack," he said, lifting the metal instrument up. "You put it under the rim of the car, and then use this lever," he pointed, "to lift the car up."

"Why can't I just lift the car up with my hands?"

"One—you're going to need both hands to change the tire, and two—what if someone saw you? The jack isn't hard to use."

"Fine. Move over. I can do it."

"You _do _realize you might get dirt under your fingernails, right?" he added, patronizingly.

I glared at him. "Move."

He talked me through how to use the jack. It _was_ pretty easy. It took a while, but it was easy. Once he pointed to the "lug nuts", and told me how the lever from the jack could also be used to loosen them, I did the rest on my own. It was pretty obvious: take the lug nuts off, take the tire off, put the new tire on, put the lug nuts back on, and then lower the car.

After I had the lug nuts tightened again, I cheated—lifting the car up and pulling the jack out from under it.

"Anxious to get home?" Edward asked, obviously referring to my fight with Emmett.

I shrugged and as an explanation thought, _That was kind of fun_.

Edward smiled at me. I smiled back.

Edward put the flat tire and jack back in the trunk as I got the car ready to go. When he got in, I pulled the car around and headed back toward home.

After a few minutes, Edward broke the silence. "You know, Rosalie—there are a lot of things about cars that really aren't too complicated. Things that need to be checked regularly, simple repairs. I could show you some of them, if you would like."

I looked over at him, confused. _You're volunteering to spend time with me?_

He shrugged one shoulder, still looking out the windshield, his face revealing nothing.

I smiled. "I'd like that," I answered, still a bit surprised. _Do we actually have something in common?_

He laughed. "Shocking, isn't it? After all this time, we have finally found a common interest? And it only took fourteen years!" He laughed again, shaking his head. "And automobiles, of all things! I never would have guessed it."

I couldn't help but laugh as well. It _was_ pretty strange, I had to admit.

Edward and I spent the rest of the drive home in _companionable _silence. What a change. And thinking about that change made me think about how drastically my mood had changed since we left the house. And I realized why. _It was fixing the car!_ It put me in a better mood, somehow. I was able to use my excess energy from being frustrated to repair the car, and now the frustration itself was just… gone! _I need to change tires more often!_

Suddenly realizing, yet again, that Edward could hear her—_Why is that so hard to remember?_—I added, verbally, "I think Emmett will be happy with my discovery."

He laughed. "Yeah?" he shrugged, _pretending_ not to know what I was talking about.

_Yeah. That innocent act is totally working on me_, I thought sarcastically._ You know as well as I do that he will be ecstatic._

He laughed again. "Yes, he will be," and after a moment he added quietly, "He wasn't attracted to _her_, you know. I heard him. He was just thirsty, like he said."

"I know," I sighed.

"You do?" he asked, shocked. "Then why…"

"I know _now_," I amended. "I wasn't thinking clearly before. I cannot think clearly when I'm like that. I don't care how many minds you have read, you do not know what it feels like to know you are being irrational, but not be able to stop. I needed some time to cool off. That is why I drive. It helps clear my mind—so I can think rationally."

He didn't say anything in response.

_Wish me luck_, I thought, as I pulled my car into the detached garage.

"You don't need it," he said matter-of-factly.

_Maybe not. But I should._ But when I turned around, Edward was no longer there. He still heard me though.

Emmett wasn't in the living room anymore, so I went upstairs. He was the first place I looked—in our room. He was sitting on the bed, legs out, crossed at the ankle in front of him, leaning his head back against the headboard. His fingers were combed into his curly hair, as though the only thing holding his head together was his own strength. I closed the door behind me. Emmett's eyes opened—they were a lot darker than I remembered them being earlier. He really was thirsty. I went over to the foot of the bed, and climbed onto it, but he wasn't moving. I crawled up toward him, until I was sitting on his lap, one leg on each side of him. My skirt had hiked up, revealing an indecent amount of my legs, but we _were_ married, after all.

Emmett's eyes were watching my every move, so I gave him a little half smile, before taking his face between my hands and tilting it down, so I could reach his lips with mine. I felt his eyebrows shoot up when our lips made contact—he was surprised, and I didn't blame him—but that didn't stop me from kissing him long and deep. He didn't hesitate to kiss me back. His hands moved from his hair to my back, holding me to him.

_God, he tastes good, and his lips are so… And the things he does with his tongue! _I moaned, and broke the kiss, knowing I needed to talk to him before we continued.

"Mmm… I wasn't done yet," Emmett murmured, leaning forward to recapture my lips.

We kissed for a few more minutes before breaking apart, both of us breathing heavily.

"I love you, and I'm really sorry," Emmett said quickly.

"I'm sorry I got so mad at you—it was so stupid! I was already frustrated that they didn't have that blouse I wanted in my size, and then I saw you looking at her all longingly, and I just overreacted. I love you so much. I am _so _lucky to have you!" I exclaimed.

"I was just thirsty—I swear! Her blood just smelled better than anyone else's around. It could have been a guy just as easily. It wasn't her." He took my face between his hands. "I love _you_, and _only_ you. You are so," he kissed me, "so," kiss, "_so_," kiss, "unbelievably beautiful," long kiss, "and so," kiss, "so," kiss, "incredibly," kiss, "Mmm… _sexy_." He kissed me slowly and deeply.

"I love you," I said, more tenderly this time. He started placing kisses down the side of my neck. But I wasn't done talking yet. "Emmett—wait a second."

"Why?" he breathed, between kisses.

"I need… ooooh…" he had pushed back the collar of my blouse, and was sucking lightly right on the spot where my neck connects to my shoulder. As soon as his lips moved, I could think again.

"Emmett! Stop it!"

He pulled away, a sexy pout on his lips. I grabbed his face and made him look at me.

"I just want to tell you something quickly, and then we can go right back to kissing," I qualified.

He perked up, "Promise?"

"YES, I promise," I said, getting exasperated. I wanted to get back to kissing, too, and he was wasting valuable time. He grinned right at me, and that smile always caused my insides to melt.

"Okay—what?"

_What? What, what? What was he talking about? Damn that smile. Uhhh… oh, right…_ "I changed a tire."

His eyebrow went up. "And?" he asked, tugging at the back of my blouse, trying to un-tuck it.

"AND it was quite stress-relieving," I explained.

"And?" he asked again, not getting it. That might have had something to do with the fact that he was trying to undress me. I shivered, feeling the smooth material of my blouse slide against my lower back. I grabbed his hand, halting the wonderful sensation.

"And, you nitwit, will you listen to me, please? I'm going to need to fix the entire axle in a second here if you don't stop!" I exclaimed, annoyed.

"I'm sorry," Emmett rushed to say. Apparently he wanted to 'make up' as much as I did. "I'm really listening now."

I took a deep breath and started over, more directly this time. "I made a discovery tonight, Emmett. Fixing my car helped me to calm down and think clearly. That's why I'm back so soon. That's why I'm not upset with you anymore. I took out my negativity on the car."

"That's awesome! And I was the one who bought it for you!"

"Yes, and I'm glad you did," I said, deciding that was enough talking, and kissing him again, placing his hand back where I'd taken it from. He was quick to pick up where he left off. I shivered again, feeling his cool fingertips grazing the skin of my lower back.

We were having a lovely time kissing, until Emmett interrupted, trying to talk. "Rose?"

"Mmm?" I asked, sucking lightly on his earlobe. He shuddered, and I smiled.

"If you need to change any more tires, I have four on my Jeep. And I could talk to Edward and Carlisle—that would be eight more."

I pulled back and whacked Emmett on the shoulder. "What are you saying?" I asked, feigning offense.

"Uhhh… I was just thinking that…. Well… you can't change the same tire over and over again," he stuttered.

"Are you saying I'm temperamental?" I could practically see him sweating.

"No. No, no. I just… Ummm…" he stammered some more.

"Well?" I said, giving him a look that clearly meant, 'This had better be good.'

"I do a lot of stupid things that make you understandably frustrated, so you'll need something to take your frustration out on—that's all," he finally managed.

I beamed at him, "Good answer."

He grinned and grabbed me, flipping me onto my back. I let out a little squeal and Emmett laughed happily. He quickly un-tucked the front of my blouse and ran his fingertips across my bare tummy. My stomach muscles trembled under his touch.

We had scarcely begun kissing again when we heard, "I'm going to go for a run. I'll be back… later."

_Edward._

And then we heard the front door close.

We both laughed, knowing we'd scared our poor brother off. I couldn't exactly blame him. I had no idea what was going on in Emmett's head, but it was probably worse than my thoughts. And I was thinking of all the many things I was going to do to my husband…

* * *

**A/N** – Who do you picture as Emmett? Because I picture Tom Welling, and every time that boy smiles, I about die inside. I start giggling like a 14-year-old and blushing like Bella! And I would have that reaction even if I was as beautiful as Rosalie:)

I had a blast and a half researching the 1940s… especially CARS of the 1940s. I found pictures. They're SO PRETTY!! For this chapter, I will post links to pictures of Rosalie and Emmett's cars. :) I tried to make them old versions of the cars they have now… :)

I hope you liked the first chapter. I'll post the second and final chapter (which is the same story, but from a different point of view) tomorrow.

Review and let me know what you think!


	2. Edward's POV

**A/N – **All right. Here is chapter two: Edward's point of view. Maybe it seems strange to you that I would write the second chapter in EDWARD's point of view instead of Emmett's, but admit it: You want to read Emmett and Rosalie's make-out scene from Edward's point of view. I laughed _so_ hard when I wrote it. Picturing him going, "Oooohhh… I didn't want to see that!" and trying NOT to hear what Emmett is thinking…

Plus, in Midnight Sun, Edward himself says that he doesn't feel guilty reading Emmett's thoughts, because he rarely thinks things he wouldn't say. So you can pretty much get Emmett's point of view THROUGH Edward's. But yeah. I LOVE writing Edward's point of view. He's awesome.

Disclaimer – Again, I don't own any of Stephenie Meyer's characters, though I would LOVE to own Edward… sigh Wouldn't we all?

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**1947**

**Edward's POV**

I did _not_ envy Emmett right now. It wasn't as though I ever envied him Rosalie, but if there were ever a time I was _most_ glad I wasn't him, it was right now. I thought it was bad when Rosalie was mad at _me_, which was more often than not, but apparently she saved her _real_ wrath for Emmett. _Poor guy._

As if the actual yelling wasn't enough, I could hear her screaming thoughts, too. I'm just glad _Emmett_ couldn't hear them. He might do idiotic things every so often, but he didn't deserve _this_.

_What was I THINKING, marrying EMMETT MCCARTY?! He is so… ARRRGGGGHHH!!!_ _Unfaithful bastard!_

_I have to get out of here. I don't want to be on the same _continent_ as him right now, let alone in the same godforsaken house!_

It was not as though he had meant anything by what he'd done. We'd been in town, and yes, the girl might have been attractive by human standards, but Emmett wasn't thinking of her _that_ way—he was only thinking of her blood. He'd only been a vampire for 12 years. His control was no where _near_ perfect yet. (Not that mine was either.) It was not Emmett's fault that Rosalie was insecure and didn't believe what the man she loved—the man who loved _her_—told her.

Rosalie had bottled up most of her anger until we got home. I had scarcely entered my room before she exploded. She was just lucky (and Emmett unlucky) that Esme and Carlisle were out hunting. They never would have let Rosalie say the things she said. Especially not when Rosalie was the sole reason Emmett was part of our family.

But at least she was leaving. It probably wasn't a healthy response to run away, but when she was like this, her thoughts drove me crazy! Plus, this would give me an opportunity to talk to Emmett—reassure him a little bit.

I heard the sound of tires squealing as Rosalie left. I heard her think, _If he wants me, he's going to have to come after me._

As soon as the car left my audible range, I went downstairs to talk to Emmett. I wouldn't tell him that last thought of hers, though. She'd come back on her own. She always did.

I plopped myself down onto a big chair next to the couch he was sitting on. "Do you want to talk?"

"What am I supposed to do? I've never seen her that mad before. And I didn't even do anything!"

"I know that," I replied.

_What? You do?_

When he looked over at me, questioningly, I tapped two fingers to my forehead.

"You heard? Can you talk to her?" he asked. He was obviously feeling desperate if he was asking me that.

"I always hear, but if she wouldn't listen to _you_, why would she listen to _me_?"

_Oh. Right._

"I don't know," he hesitated, obviously realizing how ridiculous his request was. "I just… how am I ever going to make her forgive me?"

"She always forgives you. She loves you," I tried to console him. But what else could I say? I might be able to read Rosalie's mind, but her logic was… incomprehensible. "She just needs some time to cool down." Yes, that sounded good.

"I guess so." _Maybe I could buy her something…_

"That might not be a bad idea. Maybe you could track down that blouse she wanted earlier."

"Yeah! That's a good idea!" _I'll telephone them right now!_

"Emmett? It's one o'clock in the morning. You're going to have to wait until they open later today."

He moaned, dropping onto the couch and placing his forehead in his hands. "What can I do in the meantime?" He was searching his mind for ideas.

"I don't know, you'll think of something. You always manage to…" I was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Rosalie's thoughts into my mind. She was still very angry, but she wanted to talk to _me_, for some reason.

"Emmett—she's coming back. Stay like that—let her see how sorry you are—and then try apologizing or something. Good luck."

I raced upstairs, put on my Duke Ellington record, and grabbed the first book I could reach. I flopped down on my stomach on the couch in my room. I was listening to the catchy swing music and tapping my foot to the beat when I heard the front door close.

I saw Emmett in her mind, and her _How _dare_ he make himself into the victim here! UGH!_

Oops. Apparently that wasn't a good idea.

Emmett attempted to apologize, (Rosalie was thinking, _No way. You're not getting off that easy._), and she wouldn't even let him finish, before she interrupted with her, "DON'T TALK TO ME." I also saw the glare Rosalie gave Emmett. That look might have killed a lesser being.

---

I was still tapping my foot when Rosalie barged into my room. The door slammed so hard against the wall, I was surprised the handle didn't put a hole in the wall.

"Did you want to dance?" I asked her, sarcastically.

I'd been thinking about what I'd say when she came in and the music had inspired that comment. I knew it had the potential to infuriate her, but I was annoyed with her. She shouldn't be treating Emmett this way, especially considering he hadn't actually _done_ anything. Not a single disloyal thought.

She had promised before God and witnesses, of which I was only _one_, to love and cherish Emmett in good times _and_ in bad times. She wasn't doing a very good job of holding up her side of that vow. She wasn't treating her _husband—_the man she supposedly loved—with very much kindness or respect, and she _certainly_ was not showing that she _trusted_ him.

"_What?!_"

"You burst in so excitedly—I thought you might be yearning to dance." I pointed to the record player, just now realizing that the book I was holding was _Animal Farm_. It had been voted Book of the Year in the United States for 1946, so I thought I should read it. I thought briefly that I should probably start at the beginning, instead of page 72, where I currently had the book open to.

_Yeah, because that is_ so_ what I'm in the mood for._ Back to dancing with Rosalie.

I very nearly snorted.

_Can't let him goad me… No. I need you to show me how to change a flat tire._

I couldn't stop my head from popping up at that.

_Oh yes—Edward with his stupidly surprised face._

I raised an eyebrow, but I couldn't stop my confusion.

_WHAT?!_ Rosalie? Stunningly beautiful Rosalie? Rosalie, whose hair is never mussed? Rosalie, who is meticulous about her clothing?

_Rosalie_ wants to get _grease_ on her hands?

She rolled her eyes at me.

I couldn't help it. I had to know. "_Why?_" After all, not only was her desire to get dirty incomprehensible, but what did this have to do with her fight with Emmett?

_Grrr… I don't want Emmett to hear. Oh, whatever—I'll just think it then._

And I saw it in her mind: She'd been driving down the road, fuming, when the vehicle started handling funny. I knew right away it was a flat, but she didn't. She got out of the car to see if she could see anything wrong, and discovered the tire. She'd gotten mad at the situation—the "piece of rubber" had ruined her grand getaway, which she wanted to continue without Emmett knowing the reason—and she had taken her frustration out on the poor convertible. I heard the creaking of metal. I was actually surprised the axle hadn't snapped.

"You shouldn't have _kicked_ it," I remarked.

_He's _trying_ to annoy me! _"I realize that _now_."

She had actually examined the axle, and was replaying that inspection for me. It looked bad. From what I could see, the whole rear driveshaft would need to be replaced.

"You made it about twenty times worse, you know."

"Yeah, I _do_ know, thank you very much. Are you going to help me?" _Or am I going to have to pick the damned thing up and _run _it back home?_

I _did_ snort at that remark. That would be quite a sight to be seen. "Fine," I agreed. Maybe I could help Emmett out after all. "Let's go."

As we were walking out of the house, I spotted Emmett through the kitchen.

_Will you talk to her? Please?_

I mouthed, 'I'll try' to him. He looked visibly relieved.

_Thank you._

I shrugged my shoulder. I didn't know how successful "talking" with Rosalie would be.

---

She directed me where to go, and we made it in hardly any time. Her car obviously didn't go as fast as mine, or it would have taken us longer to get there. Then again, mine _was_ a roadster—built specifically for speed. Not that I could drive it much anymore. It _was_ German, after all. I didn't want to be lynched. Not that I _could _be. And that, itself, would raise unneeded attention to our family.

When we arrived, I crouched down to look at the axle. Rosalie was thinking about a 'bent metal rod,' so I told her what it was _actually_ called.

"It should be _straight_," I added.

"I figured that much out on my own," _the wheels don't line up anymore. I'm not stupid._ "How do you fix it?"

Did she really want to know? "You get a new axle—either from an old model or directly from Ford—then lift the car up, take this part of the car apart, replace the axle, then put the car back together," I explained, simplifying the process quite a bit. She had no idea what was required for that detailed process.

"That sounds…" _expensive…,_ "complicated."

"It is." But from my diagnosis, we could probably bend the piece back together. The shock on the metal would make the piece more brittle, but if I was careful, I should be able to bend it back. "We can worry about all that later. But we should be able to make it drivable for now." I scooted underneath the car and bent the axle slowly back into place with my hands.

Once I was out from underneath the car, I added, "I guess vampire strength actually comes in handy once in a while." At least _some_ good came from this existence. If you could even _call_ it 'good'.

"What about the tire?" she asked.

"We'll have to change it," I added, spotting a rusty nail between the treads. "It looks like you ran over a nail." I pulled the metal from the tire and handed it to her.

She stared at it for a moment. _An entire automobile rendered useless by a tiny piece of metal._

That wasn't the only small thing that could disable something much larger. Had she not heard stories of birds being sucked into airplane engines, causing the entire plane to crash? I just shrugged. "The spare tire is in the trunk."

She opened the trunk, and I took the tire and car jack out. I told her what the 'metal contraption' was and the basics of how it worked.

"Why can't I just lift the car up with my hands?"

Again with wanting to get her hands dirty. Apparently being angry at Emmett caused her to not think clearly.

"One—you're going to need both hands to change the tire, and two—what if someone saw you? The jack isn't hard to use."

"Fine. Move over. I can do it."

"You _do _realize you might get dirt under your fingernails, right?" I didn't want her to realize this after the fact and get more upset.

She glared at me, and said, "Move," drawing it out into two patronizing syllables.

I explained how to use the jack—where exactly under the car it should go, and how to use the bar to make the jack lift. Once she started, she pretty much did the entire process herself. I had to show her how the lever from the jack could be used to loosen the lug nuts, but she did the rest without a single word from me. It was actually pretty impressive. She performed the entire process with innate skill and grace.

Once she was done replacing the tire and lug nuts, she lifted the car up, pulled the jack out, and gently put the car back down.

I raised my eyebrow at her. "Anxious to get home?" I asked, trying to suggest that she go _back_ to Emmett, rather than continue on her drive away from him and their argument.

She didn't catch on. She realized that I was referring to Emmett, but not that I was trying to keep her mind away from running away.

She shrugged, and thought, _That was kind of fun._ I noticed that sometimes she would think at me when she didn't want to admit something aloud—as though the things going through her mind were somehow less… _quotable_ than something actually spoken.

But I smiled at her, nonetheless. She smiled back.

I put the flat tire in the trunk, as well as the jack, and got in the car.

I was thinking about what Rosalie had said—about having _fun_ changing a tire. How odd. She _liked_ working on cars. I knew it was selfish, but maybe if she spent more time doing things that were "fun", she wouldn't be as… volatile. And there were plenty of things she could learn to do easily—simple maintenance, straightforward repairs.

"You know, Rosalie—there are a lot of things about cars that really aren't too complicated. Things that need to be checked regularly, easy repairs. I could show you some of them, if you would like."

I could see in her mind that she was looking at me. _You're volunteering to spend time with me?_

Uhhh…. I supposed the answer to that would be a technical 'yes', but she didn't need to know the reason behind it. I just shrugged a shoulder.

"I'd like that," she replied, surprised that she _wanted _to answer affirmatively. _Do we actually have something in common?_

I couldn't help but laugh at that, because she was right. "Shocking, isn't it? After all this time, we have finally found a common interest? And it only took fourteen years!" I laughed again at the absurdity of the situation. "And automobiles, of all things! I never would have guessed it."

She laughed as well. _I suppose it _is_ pretty strange._

I was thinking about the things I was going to teach her—how to check different fluid levels in her vehicle. How to change the windshield wipers and check the air pressure in the tires. How to change the oil and filters. That would keep her busy for a while. Then, if she still likes it, I could show her more in-depth procedures. Maybe one day, she could fix the rear driveshaft herself.

I tuned back in to Rosalie's thoughts just in time to hear a brilliant realization—one that I'd very nearly come to myself. She was realizing that working on her car—even something small, like changing a tire—provided an outlet for her negative energy. She had left the house as mad as a raging bull, but now she was calm.

_I need to change tires more often!_

She realized again, rather suddenly, that I could hear her. _Why is that so hard to remember?_ we thought in unison.

"I think Emmett will be happy with my discovery," she added aloud. I was surprised that she said anything—normally she would have said something to try to save face.

I decided to feign ignorance. "Yeah?" I said, naively, and shrugged.

_Yeah. That innocent act is totally working on me,_ she thought sarcastically. _You know as well as I do that he will be ecstatic._

I couldn't help but laugh. She'd seen right through me. "Yes, he will be," I dared to admit.

I paused, thinking of Emmett, and the promise I'd made to him to talk to Rosalie if I could. I took a quiet, but deep breath before continuing. I never quite knew what would set Rosalie off, but I knew I was taking a risk even _thinking_ about saying what I was about to say. "He wasn't attracted to _her_, you know," I thought this was the most important thing for her to realize, so I made this statement first. She didn't stop me, so I went on. "I heard him. He was just thirsty, like he said."

She sighed, "I know."

I was so shocked that I couldn't stop myself from blurting out, "You do?" Oops. I tried to recover at least a little by saying, "Then why…" but couldn't think of anything _flattering_ to say, so I let the sentence drop, shaking my head.

"I know _now_." I didn't know what to think of that, so I waited for her to continue. "I wasn't thinking clearly before. I cannot think clearly when I'm like that. I don't care how many minds you have read. You do not know what it feels like to know you are being irrational, but not be able to stop."

She was right about that. I had seen women who were acting unreasonably who had similar thoughts—but I simply could _not_ understand this phenomenon.

"I needed some time to cool off. That is why I drive. It helps clear my mind—so I can think rationally."

So I _hadn't_ lied to Emmett. I couldn't believe I had been even partially right about Rosalie.

Rosalie pulled into the garage, and thought, _Wish me luck._ But who was she kidding?

"You don't need it," I replied, and quickly ran up to my room.

As I plopped back down on my couch, I was surprised to hear, _Maybe not. But I should. _Did she actually realize that Emmett was sometimes too forgiving? That this incident was all _her_ fault, and that _she_ was the one that needed forgiving—not _him_?

I heard Rosalie's thoughts as she searched for Emmett, and saw her in Emmett's mind when she entered their room.

_Uh oh. What's that look on her face? I don't think I'll move this time until she says something… Wait. What is she…? _I didn't particularly want to see this obvious foreplay, but I _did_ want to see Emmett's reaction to Rosalie's new-found hobby.

_Umm… _he_llo… _Emmett thought as Rosalie made herself comfortable on his lap. _She isn't acting like she's mad anymore—did she just smile? What did Edward _say_ to her? She's never forgiven me this quickly—not in twelve years… well, maybe during the first couple, but… Mmmmm……_

Rosalie kissed him then, and I was doing my best to _not _hear Rosalie's thoughts about Emmett's lips or tongue. I was trying even harder not to hear Emmett's thoughts of how great the "make-up sex" was about to be. His thoughts were more… visual.

Why was I still here?

Mixed in with Rosalie's thoughts of how good Emmett tasted, she was still determined to tell him about how she'd changed her car's tire. She stopped kissing him and tried to talk, but Emmett wasn't having any of that.

I almost gave up, but just as I stood to leave, they started talking, so I sat back down.

Emmett apologized and Rosalie explained her side of the story. Emmett reaffirmed his side—he was simply thirsty, and that girl's blood had smelled the best of anyone around. And then Emmett started kissing her again, before she could say anything. She tried to interrupt, but suddenly her mind was blank of everything except for how incredibly amazing she felt, and I got up and grabbed my car keys.

I was reaching for the door handle when Rosalie exclaimed, "Emmett! Stop it!"

He was pouting, but I tuned in now, sure that Rosalie wouldn't be so easily distracted again.

"I just want to tell you something quickly, and then we can go right back to kissing."

"Promise?" he asked, hopefully.

"YES, I promise," she was getting upset again because he was wasting precious kissing time. They were both so intensely physical—they were well suited for one another.

Emmett smiled at her, and Rosalie's mind went blank again. Uh oh.

"Okay—what?" Emmett asked, only half paying attention. The other half of his mind was concerned with undressing Rosalie. He was slowly pulling the back of Rosalie's blouse loose from where it was tucked into her skirt. I focused my concentration on Rosalie's thoughts.

_What? What, what? What is he talking about? _She gave herself a mental shake. _Damn that smile. Uhhh… oh, right._ "I changed a tire."

"And?"

Emmett's mental balance had shifted. He was too concerned with getting Rosalie out of her clothes that he barely registered what she was saying.

"AND it was quite stress-relieving," she said, explaining.

"And?" He tugged at her blouse a little bit more, smiling as she shivered.

"And, you nitwit—" she grabbed his hand, halting his attempts to undress her, "—will you listen to me, please? I'm going to need to fix the entire axle in a second here if you don't stop!" she exclaimed, harshly.

She had his full and undivided attention now. "I'm sorry. I'm really listening now."

Rosalie mentally calmed herself before starting over. "I made a discovery tonight, Emmett. Fixing my car helped me to calm down and think clearly. That's why I'm back so soon. That's why I'm not upset with you anymore. I took out my negativity on the car."

"That's awesome! And I was the one who bought it for you!"

"Yes, and I'm glad you did," she said. _I think that's enough talking for now._ She returned his hand to her lower back and began kissing him again.

Emmett was kissing her in return, gently touching the bare skin of her back. I would have left at this point, but, for once, Emmett's mind wasn't on kissing. He was thinking about this shocking new discovery. _Rosalie likes cars? And fixing cars helps her not be mad at me? _He interrupted their kissing with a, "Rose?"

"Mmm?" was Rosalie's response.

Emmett momentarily lost the ability to speak when Rosalie began sucking on his ear, but he wasn't giving up that easily. He pulled his strength together and said, "If you need to change more tires, I have four on my Jeep. And I could talk to Edward and Carlisle—that would be eight more."

I winced for Emmett. He obviously hadn't thought about that statement before he'd said it. And sure enough, the next thing he knew, Rosalie was hitting him. "What are you saying?" But I was surprised to hear that her thoughts indicated she was not serious in her offense.

_I'm going to make him squirm for that one. This will be fun…_

"Uhhh… I was just thinking that… Well… you can't change the same tire over and over again."

_Wrong answer, Emmett! _

"Are you saying I'm temperamental?" she asked then. She was getting a thrill out of the fact that Emmett was sweating over what to say next.

"No. No, no. I just… Ummm…" he was stammering.

"Well?" she asked, thoroughly enjoying herself. She was so mean to him sometimes.

Emmett interpreted Rosalie's look correctly. _Damn. If I say something wrong, she'll be mad at me again, and then I'll have to wait _twice_ as long for the make-up sex…_

"I do a lot of stupid things—" Emmett managed, only slightly pausing before going on, "—that make you understandably frustrated, so you'll need something to take that frustration out on—that's all."

_Well done, Emmett_, I thought.

Rosalie smiled at him. "Good answer."

Emmett grinned and grabbed Rosalie, flipping her onto her back on their huge bed. That and her squeal were my indications to get out of the house.

Emmett started caressing Rosalie's exposed abdomen, and I didn't need to see any more.

I quickly decided I might need something more to do than just drive. I grabbed my copy of _Animal Farm_ and ran downstairs.

Just as they began kissing again, I called up to them, "I'm going to go for a run. I'll be back… later."

_Edward,_ they both thought in unison. They'd forgotten I was in the house. I suppose it was understandable—they often got caught up in themselves and forgot everything else. I wasn't offended by it at all. But that didn't mean I was going to stay.

As I closed the door and ran off, I could hear them laughing.

Rosalie did a quick inventory of her thoughts. _I can't blame him._ _I wouldn't want to hear my thoughts either, if I were him. And I _definitely_ wouldn't want to hear _Emmett's

Emmett's thought upon my leaving could have been much worse: _Edward had better take his time out there! It is going to be a _while_ till I'm done with you…_

* * *

**A/N –** Did you like it? Did you laugh at Edward-in-an-awkward-position as much as I did? I tried to make it so he could block out some of the finer details. I didn't think he would want to picture Rosalie naked, for instance, like I'm sure Emmett was seeing in his mind. I decided to cut poor Edward a LITTLE bit of slack. She IS his SISTER, after all. She's beautiful, but Saint Edward, I'm sure, doesn't want any of Emmett's impure thoughts running through his head… heehee… :)

Don't be too critical about the car stuff. I tried to research a little bit (thank you Wikipedia), but I know very little about cars. I hope that didn't show. ;)

For this chapter, I am posting links of Edward and Carlisle's cars. I WANT EDWARD'S CAR. I'll admit—it's no Aston Martin V12 Vanquish, but it's pretty:)

Review and let me know what you think!


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